


It is Enough

by normalisoverrated



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, But Pietro lives, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff - Freeform, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Dissociation, Domestic Fluff, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Jewish Wanda Maximoff, Laura Barton & Wanda Maximoff - Freeform, Mom Wanda Maximoff, Mostly Age of Ultron Compliant, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, POV Wanda Maximoff, Panic Attacks, Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff Feels, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Laura Barton, Protective Pietro Maximoff, Protective Tony Stark, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teen Pregnancy, The Bartons adopt the Maximoffs, Trauma, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Wanda Maximoff Feels, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normalisoverrated/pseuds/normalisoverrated
Summary: When the pain fades, Wanda can feel so much more.She can feel her own body and the warm fire within. She can feel Pietro, his body full of crackling lightning.He has changed. She has changed.But they are still together, that has not changed, that will never change.  The two of them against the world.But this last will change. She feels it inside herself. Something tiny. Something new. A tiny beating heart.It will become the three of them.Basically a cross between a character study of Wanda Maximoff and a 'what if' of if Wanda was pregnant in Age of Ultron.
Relationships: Laura Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Clint Barton
Comments: 67
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the result of me having a lot of Wanda feels because of WandaVision. I may continue it, I may not, but I thought I'd share it anyway. For now it's a standalone. It's barely proofread so apologies for any mistakes. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS for rape, sexual abuse, and dissociation. Please do not read if this will upset you.

There is a place in Wanda’s mind, still, and cold, and silent.

She goes there sometimes. When the men come. When they take Pietro. When she knows what comes next. They will come for her next.

Still. Something deep inside Wanda is still, even as the door of her cell unlocks, even as she answers the barked commands. She gets up, moves forward, leaves the cell. Down the corridor. Into the laboratory. She moves. But inside, she is still. Still like a mouse hidden from a cat. Still like a child that knows there is nowhere to run. Still.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Cold. Wanda feels cold, in the depths of her stomach. A sick twisting feeling that is not quite like sickness. The laboratory is warm. It always is. But the warmth is skin deep. A pretence that they care about her. It does not reach her bones. She knows the lie of it. Just as she knows the scientists words are lies. It is not necessary that she is naked. It is a lie. It is not warmth. It is not necessary. She is cold.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Silent. She is silent but the world is not. The hum of machines. The harsh commands of soldiers. The rustle of lab-coats. Gentle hands on her skin. Gentle words in her own language. “Relax. You can trust me.” They are lies. Gentle is a lie. Choice is a lie. Water drips far away. Drip. Drip. Drip. Tiny sounds in a sea of noise, but she hears it. Drip. Drip. Drip. It will be over soon. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Harsh straps over her skin.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It smells of antiseptic and mould.

A needle. She doesn’t like needles. She whimpers once, then falls silent. She must be silent. She is the mouse. She is the child. There is nowhere to run.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Fire. Fire burning through her, and her silence falls away like torn wet paper. She arches, screams ripping from her throat, movement and heat and noise, but inside, inside she is still, and cold, and silent.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Harsh commands and harsher straps. Hands that linger when they need not. Adjusting. Gentle. It is a lie.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Time passes, measured only by changing soldiers. New ones come. Old ones go.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The fire fades to heat. Agony fades to pain.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A hand caresses her neck, then presses to take a pulse. The soldiers are still here.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Will she live?” Yes. Wanda will live. A tear slides down the side of her face. She knows what comes next.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Out. I will take care of her now.”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Soldiers move. Scientists move. She is still.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He turns the heat up. Wanda feels cold and cold and cold.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He undoes his belt. Loosens her straps.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He grunts, thrusting up and down. Moans. He is sound. She is silence.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It will be over soon.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Soon.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Time twists. Stretches and shortens. It is forever. It is a moment.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He washes her. Warm water on a soft cloth. He moves her body, but inside she is still.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The laboratory is warmer than her cell ever is. She will not feel warm water again until next time. Inside, she is cold.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He talks to her. Gentle words of his family. His home. They are lies. He is not gentle. She is silent.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It is over. The straps are undone. An order is barked, harsh once more. She dresses. She moves, but she is still inside.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She is led back down to her cell. Pietro is not in his yet. Her heart twists with worry, but there is relief too. There is time. She steps into her cell. Retreats into the corner. Wipes the tears from her eyes. Pietro must not see when he comes. Pietro must not know. He must not see her face.

When they bring him she shakes her hair down and peers at him through it. He is pale. There is a thick line of red across his forehead. He has been strapped down too. But he walks on his own. Strong and defiant. Her Pietro. She can trust him. He is the only one she can trust. He is all she has. All she needs. They have each other. It is enough.

\------------------

It is different this time. Something is different. The soldiers take them together. Her and Pietro.

They walk to a new laboratory together. Wanda has not seen it before. She looks at Pietro, and her twin shakes his head. He has not seen it before.

Wanda doesn’t like this. She doesn’t want Pietro there. She doesn’t want him to see the after. After the experiment is done. He must not see. He must not know.

She wants to be still. She wants to be cold. She wants to be silent. She wants to hear the dripping.

She wants to be far away.

She must not. Pietro is here. She must be strong for Pietro. She must be strong with Pietro. They must be strong. They must be brave.

Pietro squeezed their linked hands. His jaw is set. His eyes are angry. They are always angry. Wanda wonders if her eyes are angry too. There is a harsh command, but for once Wanda does not listen. For once she is not still, she is not cold, she is not silent. “No”

A soldier steps forward, strikes her hard and fast across her face. Pietro shouts, and Wanda gasps as he is struck too. No. Not Pietro. She forces her fingers to open. Obeys the command. Pietro’s fingers tighten around hers for a single moment, then he obeys too. For her.

They are strapped to separate tables.

But this time is different.

This time they are together. This time she can see Pietro. Can look into his eyes. They are together. It is enough.

This time there are no needles. Instead there is a long metal thing, with a strange core glowing blue. This time wires are taped to their skin. Then the scientist attach Pietro’s wires to the glowing blue thing. He screams, loud and terrible and Wanda is fighting. She is fighting and fighting and fighting and she is screaming too. She is movement and heat and sound and rage, rage, rage. Not Pietro. Not her brother. No. No. No. No.

Then her own wires are connected, and she feels fire. Fire like she has never felt before. She is screaming too. Screaming with unadulterated agony. Pietro is screaming her name. Her brother. Her twin. Her heart. The fire is reaching for her mind. It wants to take her. It wants to take her mind. It wants to take the things that make her Wanda. But Pietro is there. She cannot let it take her. Pietro will be alone. Pietro screams her name, and all is fire and heat and agony but she screams his name back. She will fight for Pietro. Pietro will fight for her. She can trust him. He can trust her. She will never let go, for him. He will never let go, for her. They are all they have. They are together. It is enough.

The fire enters her mind, but she will not bend. She will not break. Her mind is fire, but the fire is hers. Her body is fire, but the fire is hers. It is hers. It is hers. The agony fades into pain, but the fire remains. It is hers now.

She has changed.

She can feel everything. The tips of her toes. The roots of her hair. The fire in her veins. It is hers.

Pietro. She can feel Pietro. He has changed too. There is something in him too. Not fire. Sharp and crackling. Like lightning. He opens his eyes and looks at her, and she looks back. He held on for her. She held on for him. They can trust each other. They have each other. It is enough.

He has changed. She has changed. But that will never change. They have each other. It is enough. The two of them against the world.

It will not always be so. She feels it inside herself. Something tiny. Something new. Inside herself. A tiny beating heart. It will become the three of them.

The soldiers must not know. The soldiers must never know. She cannot trust them. She can trust no-one but Pietro. She will not tell them. She will not even tell Pietro, not until the soldiers leave them alone. That will not happen. That will never happen. It didn’t then. It surely won’t now. Pietro will forgive her. He can trust her. She can trust him. He will protect her. He will protect her baby. She can trust him. He is the only one she can trust.

\-------------

The pain fades completely, and with it the ability to be able to feel her body. She presses her hands against her belly, but even so, she cannot feel the life inside it. Red light wraps around her hands and arms like mist, wild and uncontrolled, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. She doesn’t think it will ever hurt her again.

The scientists run tests on them. Tests and tests and tests, but it is different now. They are not allowed to take risks anymore. They are valuable now. Her and Pietro. After the experiments never comes. Perhaps it will never come again. Wanda dares to hope.

They are taken back to their cells, but it is different now. They are given blankets. A pillow each. The food they are given is hot, and more plentiful. It is good. Wanda must eat. A life inside her requires it. She does not tell Pietro. They are watched all the time. She cannot risk it. Not even to tell Pietro.

She feels him across the wall. He cannot control his power. His speed. He moves impossibly fast, bounces off the walls over and over and over. But he is ok. The pain is small in comparison to what has come before. He is safe. They will not experiment further. They are prisoners here. They are not safe. But they are safer. They have each other. It is enough.

\------------

She learns to control her power. Control the red heat in her veins. Learns to do things with it. The world bends to her will now. The toy bricks they give her dance in the air, and at her command they shatter. She could make the door open if she wishes. Could twist the mechanism inside the lock and open it without a key, but she does not. She is steal learning to control this new power inside her, and she does not think know if she can stop bullets. She does not know if she can protect Pietro. She does not know if she can protect her child. She will not take the risk. Not with them.

She still has not told Pietro. There has never been an opportunity. It has been two months, and she can feel the baby inside her again, if she turns her power inwards. A tiny little heart beat-beating inside her. A so-frail life growing a tiny, tiny piece every day. She will protect them. She promises herself that. She will protect Pietro. He will protect her. They will both protect her baby. They will have each other. It is enough.

\--------------

By the time the Avengers come, her belly is beginning to stick out. She is hiding it under her dress, careful to never, never let her dress sit flat against her skin. The sickness has long passed, but now her body is beginning to ache, and she is always hungry. Her back, her groin, her thighs, she always aches, and she knows she needs to eat more. She must eat for her baby. She thinks her baby is a girl. She is frightened that she will still be here when she comes. If she and Pietro are still here then, the soldiers might take her baby. When the Avengers come she is relieved.

They do not know what the attack is when it first comes, only that the soldiers are agitated. They are brought clothes. The clothes they wore when they first came. It feels like a long, long, long time ago. Wanda turns her back as she changes, but something still feels still, and cold, and silent inside her. And there is a new fear on top of it. The soldiers must not see. They must not see her belly.

They are released from their cells, told that the Avengers have come, that the enemy has come. Strucker himself comes to speak to them. Reiterates what they have been told many times before. The Avengers are bad people. They must be stopped. Pietro and Wanda are to stop them.

Wanda wants to stay with Pietro, she wants to fight with him. The soldiers are bad people too, Wanda knows this. The soldiers are using them, just as they always have, but Wanda will obey for now if it means safety. And if it means revenge. Stark took their parents. Stark took everything. They want him to pay. But she wants to fight with Pietro. She wants to know her brother will be safe.

But Pietro is sent outside, and she is kept inside, and she can only feel him, running faster than the wind outside, too far away for her to protect. She stalks off down the halls alone. Pretends she does not know that they are planning to run. This is it. They will get their revenge, and then she and Pietro will flee. They will be safe. They will be together. Whatever else happens, that will be enough.

So she lies in wait, and when the Avengers come, she fights. She throws Captain America down the stairs, and slams the doors behind her with a flash of her power, and then she goes looking for Stark. The fool doesn’t even see her. So arrogant. And so helpless without his missiles. It is easy to twist his mind against him. Easy to dig her powers into his mind and tease out everything he fears. It feels good. Feels good to hurt him, to make him feel fear and grief and despair. To feel everything he made her feel, everything he made Pietro feel. It feels good to destroy him slowly, from the inside out. It feels almost as good as practising on the soldiers had felt.

She is not helpless anymore. She will never again hide under the bed. She will never again lie still and cold and silent. There will be no more missiles. No more After. No more.

She lets Stark take the metal thing that changed her and Pietro, knowing he will fashion his own destruction with it. It will slow his fall, make it all the more bitter, all the more devastating. She and Pietro watch him take it and leave, and then they leave too. They flee this place of suffering and pain and they go back to the streets where they spent so long. They steal money on the way out, fill their pockets with money enough to by lodgings and food for weeks. She does not think it is wrong. Not after Strucker lied to them. Not after everything they did to them. It is not wrong to take money from them.

They buy food. Street food she has not tasted in so, so long, and they eat until they are truly, genuinely full, and then find a guest-house, pay for a nights stay. They rent only one room, and it only has one bed, but they don’t mind. They sleep as they always had, before Strucker, together. When they were young, they kicked and bickered over the blanket, and when they were older (still young, still far too young) they huddled together for warmth in whatever meagre shelter they could find, but now they curl up together just for the sake of it. They do not need warmth, the blankets are thick and soft, but still Pietro wraps his arms around her and holds her close, and she rests her head on his chest where she can hear the reassuring beat of his heart. They are safe. They are together.

This is the time. Safe and warm and full of food. This is the time when she should tell Pietro. Tell him about the little life in her belly, which he would feel if his arm was just two inches lower. Tell him about her probably-daughter. But she does not.

She loves her baby with everything in her, but she can’t help remembering being still and cold and silent, and she does not want Pietro to know. Pietro who knew they had been with Strucker far too long for it to be anything but what it was. Pietro would know it had not been just the once. Pietro would look at her and know she’d been still and cold and silent, and his heart would break for her. She must tell Pietro, she must. He trusts her and she trusts him. She needs him as he needs her. They will both need him, her baby and her. She can’t do this alone. But she doesn’t want to tell Pietro.

Not tonight. Not when they are newly free. Not when the feel of soft blankets is so fresh and perfect. Not when there is good, warm, Sokovian food inside them for the first time in over 18 months. Not tonight. Tomorrow. She will tell Pietro tomorrow.

\---------------

She does not tell Pietro tomorrow. When tomorrow comes, Ultron finds them, and then they are busy helping him. She does not want to tell Pietro where anyone else can hear. It is an excuse. She lets herself believe it is a good one.

They take on the Avengers again, help Ultron bring them down. She strikes at Stark’s team-mates minds, takes his family from him like he took theirs from them. Their minds bend under her power, and she teases out their fears and dreams, the secret things of their minds. She sends Captain America and Thor to strange, not quite right parties within their own minds. She sends Black Widow back to a place that sends chills all through her body, that reminds her of being still and cold and silent, and she tells herself she does not feel guilty. But she does feel guilty, and she feels still and cold and silent, and it makes her sloppy. She is not fast enough to get Hawkeye, and his arrow hits her in the head and pain is crackling through her body. It is not the worst she has felt but it is hot and painful and terrible and she is afraid. She is afraid for the tiny, frail life in her belly, she is afraid it will not survive.

Pietro, wonderful, reliable Pietro rescues her. She can trust him. She can rely on him. He will always protect her, and he is all she needs. Her baby thrashes in her belly, and she feels it’s pain and she is angry. She will make them pay for that. She stops Pietro before he can go back in. She wants him with her. And she wants to finish the plan. The Hulk is next. It is easy to tease out the rage in him, so easy when rage beats in her own chest and lies so close to the surface in his. She releases the Hulk and they escape with Ultron in the chaos that follows, and they go to Seoul with him. It is the farthest they have ever been away from home but she doesn’t want to see the sights, not even with Pietro at her side. They go to a laboratory, where Ultron makes a doctor build him a new body. Wanda asks Pietro to watch him, and says she is going for a walk, that she’d like to be alone, but they shouldn’t both leave him.

It is the first time in years she has lied to her brother, and guilt is swift and instant. She should tell him the truth. She must tell him, but now is not the time. They must focus on Ultron first. So she goes off alone and finds a doctor, and tells her she is pregnant, and she needs to know if her baby is healthy.

The doctor is frightened, of her or of Ultron she doesn’t know and doesn’t care, but she softens when she hears Wanda is pregnant. She asks lots of questions, asks about the father, and Wanda goes still and cold and silent and doesn’t answer. The doctor stops asking when she goes silent, and directs her to drink too much water and lie down, and Wanda obeys because she is still and cold and silent and she knows she will be punished if she does not.

But when she obeys straps don’t follow, and pain doesn’t follow, and instead she is shown a picture of her baby, and told she is expecting a daughter. She is seven months pregnant. She looks at the picture of her daughter, sees her moving on the screen as she feels her moving inside her, and the still and cold and silence don’t seem so strong, so overwhelming. She is here, and she is now, and they will never touch her again. Her baby needs her now. Her daughter has her, and she has Pietro, and they will be together and it is enough. It is more than enough.

When she returns, Pietro asks her if she enjoyed herself and she does not lie when she says she had. For the first time in a long time she is happy. Truly deeply happy, and it is wonderful, but it shatters when she places her hands on the coffin that will become Ultron and she reads his mind, and she sees what he has planned.

He will destroy them. He will destroy them all. He will end this world and it would be her fault. She wanted Stark to destroy himself, but he has made something that will destroy them all. He will destroy Pietro. He will destroy her daughter.

No.

They fight. The Avengers come and they keep fighting. She stops a train, and it is the most she has ever done with her power, and she feels the strain in her body, reaches deep, and finds she has more power to pull up. The train stops, the wheels and momentum bending to her will, and her baby kicks hard at her stomach and she gasps with pain. She must be careful. She must not strain herself too much. It won’t just be her who suffers.

She must tell Pietro. Pietro must know, must know so he can act accordingly. She is strong now, but she can’t take risks with the life inside her. Her baby needs both of them. But the Avengers take them when they leave, and Wanda will not tell Pietro in front of them. She cannot trust them. Who knew what they would do with her baby? They are angry, all so angry, and she must not show them she is vulnerable.

The Avengers argue, they fight about what to do with Ultron’s new body. She is right, Stark wants to make another Ultron, as if the one he made isn’t destructive enough. Banner threatens to break her neck and she feels guilt curl around her heart again. She has not cared who she hurt in her quest to hurt Stark. Now she sees the result of her cruelty. She is afraid. She is not sure if he will really do it, and if she dies, she thinks her daughter will die with her. She cannot let that happen.

She escapes his grasp, but it is too late to stop Thor from bringing Ultron’s body to life. But it is not Ultron, it is something new, and Wanda thinks this time it is something good. The robot is called Vision, and he is not like Ultron. He truly wants to protect the world. He says they must fight Ultron, and the Avengers listen, and Wanda and Pietro are going with them. They must. Pietro wants to go, and Wanda would never let him go alone. And she must go too. She must help fix what she has helped create.

She ought to tell Pietro about her daughter. He will be angry at her for this. Deeply angry. He will not easily forgive her for going into battle with a baby, small and vulnerable, in her belly. But she does not tell him. Pietro needs her, as she needs him. They rely on each other. They do everything together. She will not let him go alone, and she will not stand by without trying to fix what she broke. She will just have to be careful.

But the fighting is desperate and chaotic. She uses her power to send as many civilians as she can to safety, and learns that she can block bullets, but it is hard and the fighting has taken Pietro far from her side, and she is frightened. She is so frightened. She hides inside a building with Hawkeye, and she shakes with fear and she shakes with guilt, but Hawkeye brushes it aside. He tells her she can stay here, that he will send Pietro to get her, but he also tells her she can go out there, she can fight, and she can be an Avenger.

She makes her choice.

She is done lying still. She will never again lie still and cold and silent. The power in her veins makes her powerful. Makes her strong. Strong enough to protect herself. Strong enough to protect her baby. Strong enough to make it right. So she goes out, and she fights, and she fights to kill, and she becomes an Avenger.

Everything is chaotic after that. One fight runs into another, and there are few moments of stillness. She sees Black Widow again, feels guilt twist in her heart but the Avenger only makes a comment about the jacket she is wearing. She had not realised it was Black Widow’s jacket she had borrowed. It does not really matter. The battle continues, and they end up back in the church, protecting a piece of metal that could bring Sokovia crashing to the ground, destroying half the world in the process.

The other Avengers leave, and she says she can protect the core. She fights, digging deep inside her power like never before, digging deeper and deeper and finding her power is so much deeper than she knew. She holds her ground and she protects the core and then she feels pain and she knows it is not hers.

_**Pietro** _ **.**

_**No.** _

She screams like she has never screamed before, and her power explodes from her, washing out in a devastating wave destroying every piece of Ultron she can reach, and still it goes further. Pietro is far away, but he is not too far away. Her brother will never be too far away. Not for her. She cannot see him, she cannot hear him, but she can feel him, and her power finds him. She works on nothing but instinct, pulling bullets from his body, holding his blood inside it, knitting his body together and slowing her brothers impossibly fast heart. She feels someone else touch her brothers body, someone else begin to apply pressure to remaining wounds, and she knows he is safe. He will live. He is safe.

Ultron will pay for this.

She leaves the church, finds Ultron and rips out his heart. She makes him suffer like he made Pietro suffer. Makes him feel what she did for that single, endless, eternal second when she thought her brother, her heart, had died.

But she has made a mistake. She left her post, and there is a single Ultron suit left, and the city is falling.

The city is falling, and Iron Man is going to destroy it, and for the second time in her life Stark is going to kill her and someone she loves, and this time she has only herself to blame.

She led Stark to make Ultron.

She helped Ultron get the Vibranium.

She brought her baby to a battlefield.

She left shelter to become an Avenger.

She left her post to get revenge.

_**She has killed her daughter.** _

And then Vision saves her, and somehow, she has been given another chance. Vision brings her to Pietro, brings her to her brother, her twin, her heart. Pietro is pale, his clothes soaked in blood, but his chest rises and falls irregularly, and he is breathing, and he will live, and it is enough. She can feel his mind, knows it has closed itself off, but he is alive and he will heal and it is enough. It is enough.

They are alive. They are all three of them alive. They have lost much, Pietro and her, and many have died because of their search for revenge, but Pietro and her daughter are alive, and they will all heal, and Wanda will try to make it right. She is an Avenger now. She cannot bring back the dead, but she can work to stop more from dying. She will do what she can. And when he wakes, however long that takes, she knows Pietro will be want the same. She knows Pietro like he knows himself, as he knows her. He will be angry, when he wakes and she finally tells him the truth, she knows that. But he will forgive her. He always has, and he always will. He will love her daughter, as Wanda does. He will help protect her, and they will have each other. They will be together, and it would be more than enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to continue the one-shot! I think I've got a plan for the rest of this story now!

It is three weeks later, and still she sits by Pietro’s bedside, begging her brother to wake. The doctors said he is in a coma, but Wanda did not need doctors to tell her. She feels her brother’s mind. She knows it is closed off. She knows her brother should have died. She thinks Pietro knows it too. He needs time. He will heal. He has to.

Her baby kicks more and more every day, and her back and breasts hurt never-endingly. She has eaten well the past few weeks, and her bump has grown, hidden underneath her baggy dress. Tony Stark bought her piles of clothes without consulting her, and she is uncomfortable wearing things Stark bought her, but she has no choice, so she picks out the baggiest and wears only those. She does not know how she feels about Stark. She has hated the man for so long she does not know how to deal with his kindness. He is not how she imagined him.

He is having a new building built for the Avengers. They are living in Avengers Tower, but it is damaged, and Stark has chosen to build a new place for the Avengers as well as repair it. Steve says it will be a place just for them, to live and train away from prying eyes. Steve talks to her the most. He comes and tells her what is happening, about the search for Banner, about the relief work in Sokovia. Wanda doesn’t say much back, but she appreciates his coming. His friend, Sam Wilson, comes sometimes as well. He tried to get her to talk about how she felt once, until Wanda forced him away from Pietro’s bed and out of the medical wing by force. He has not tried again since, but he brings her food sometimes, so she doesn’t have to leave for food, and he reminds her to sleep.

  
She sleeps to protect her daughter. She must be healthy for her baby. She must be strong.

She sleeps in a guest room at Avengers Tower, but in a few weeks she and Pietro, awake or asleep, will move to the Avengers Compound, and training will start. She and Vision and Sam are joining the Avengers. They are going to train as a team. To protect people. She likes the sound of that, but she worries. She worries what Pietro will say when he wakes. Will he want to join the Avengers too? She will be sad if he does not and they decide to leave. She worries that Pietro will not wake, not in time, perhaps not ever. She worries he will not forgive her when he finds out. She worries that the Avengers will discover she is pregnant. She worries that they will take her child. They have been kinder than Hydra, so far, but she does not trust them. She has heard too many terrible things to trust them. She understands too well the greed of the powerful. Wanda is valuable, she knows that, and she knows her baby will be too. Even if her daughter has no powers of her own, which is no certainty, her daughter is leverage. Wanda will do whatever she is commanded to protect her child.

She does not think she can protect her daughter from the Avengers without Pietro. Without her brothers protective speed. She does not think she can protect her daughter alone.

She worries Pietro will still be asleep when training starts. When she will have to train or admit to a reason why she cannot. She dares not reveal the truth before Pietro wakes. It is a risk she must not take. Not with her daughter. They must not know.

It has been easy to hide, so far. Clint has returned home, to his pregnant wife and two children. Natasha has come to speak to her only a few times, to ask her many questions about Hydra, about Strucker, about the experiments, and briefly if she is ok. Wanda tells her everything she can remember, everything but the Afters, everything but how she’d felt, everything but her baby. She tells Natasha she is fine, and she can tell the Avenger does not believe her, but she accepts the answer anyway. Natasha is nervous of her, a tiny hidden thing but Wanda can sense it. The woman is always ready to fight her, if she has to. Wanda cannot fault her for it. She has torn Natasha’s mind apart once already, and though she has apologised, genuinely, for it, Wanda knows she’d do it again to protect her daughter. And Wanda is herself afraid of Natasha. The woman is too perceptive, and she must not know. So she does not discourage the distance Natasha maintains.

Stark has been by a few times, but he is a constant flow of movement and noise and it is easy to just let him talk, and to say little in response and encourage him on his way back out. Thor bounces around the room with unrestrained strength, but he keeps his distance when Wanda shrinks back. Thor does not fully know his own strength, she does not want him near her unborn child. Steve’s visits are longer, and more frequent, but his eyes don’t jump around the room like Stark’s, or scan her up and down like Natasha’s, and it is easier to hide things from him. Sam comes less frequently, but stays longer, but he senses she doesn’t like being looked at and keeps his eyes on the room or Pietro instead. Of all the Avengers, she thinks she likes Sam best.

But she does not trust him. She does not trust any of them. She can trust only Pietro.

\---------

Pietro does not wake when they move to the Avengers Compound. Wanda tries not to worry, but she cannot help it. His body has healed. He is physically healthy. But still he doesn’t wake up.

She leaves his side for longer now. Goes and stands outside in the sunshine, breathes in air sweeter and clearer than she’s ever tasted, and lets her power roam free among the flowers and fallen leaves. It is good to use her power. More and more recently it has slipped through her control, responding to her emotions and whims rather than her will. She suspects it has something to do with her daughter. Something to do with her body changing, faster and faster. She feels her daughters development, thinks it is close to time, and worries more everyday what will happen.

Two weeks after the move to the Compound, Pietro still has not woken. She is beginning to experience sudden pains, and feels in her body that the time is approaching. She wants her brother. She wants him with a deep desperate ache in her bones and heart and soul. Even with Hydra, a day never passed without hearing his voice a dozen times. Without knowing he is near. This is torture.

She does not know what will happen when her time comes. They were only ten when their parents died. Their momma had told her and Pietro about sex, and her about monthly bleeding, but she had never talked about pregnancy. She knows the basic idea. Feels it in her body. But she does not know how much it will hurt, what it will feel like, what she should do. She does not know how to look after her child afterwards. She will need diapers, and she can work out how to feed her, but she knows nothing else. She cannot look it up. Her English is learned earning money off tourists, and from the barked commands of soldiers, but she cannot read in it. She can barely read in Sokovian. It has been seven years since she and Pietro were in school, and it has been a long time since she could read quickly and confidently. Even if she could, there are no Sokovian books here.

She dares not ask the Avengers. She has money now but she dares not shop for diapers or baby clothes. They must not know. She cannot trust them. Her daughter is valuable. Her daughter could have powers. Hydra was a firm lesson in the consequences of both, and she dares not trust the Avengers.

Stark installs an Artificial Intelligence called Friday into the Compound and she tries not to think of Ultron. She demands that he is not installed in her room and bathroom, that there be nothing that monitors her in those spaces. Stark agrees, but says he will win her over eventually. Wanda does not say that eventually it will not matter. Soon, it will not matter. She feels it in her body.

Pietro must wake up. He must. Wanda needs him. He must wake.

\---------

Pietro does not wake. Three weeks after the move to the Compound Thor leaves, and the Avengers give up on searching for banner. Clint’s third child is born, a little boy they name Nathaniel Pietro Barton, for Natasha and Pietro, and a lump settles in her throat when she hears. She tells Pietro about it even though she knows he cannot hear her, and she begs him again to wake. He does not. She thinks about what to call her own child, and she hopes she does not have to choose alone. She hopes Pietro wakes. She needs Pietro to wake. She needs him. She needs him now.

Steve calls the first training session, and the knot of worry in her chest tightens to almost physical pain. She feels in her body she is close. Her time is soon. She feels in her body that exercise is good, but surely too much exercise is bad. Her back aches constantly whatever exercise she takes, and she does not know what training will be like. She should find a reason to miss it, but she dares not attract suspicion.

Her bump is small in comparison to how she imagined it might be, but it is still visible with all but the loosest clothes, and her heart sinks when she sees the provisional uniform someone has designed for her. It is form fitting, and she knows her expanded belly will be clear at a glance. She cannot wear it. She puts the pants part on, and then a loose dress over the top, and the jacket around that. She will tell Steve and Natasha the top was uncomfortable. A tiny piece of concentration and a flicker of power is all she needs to keep the dress billowed out around her stomach, and it looks almost completely natural when she takes to their air. She has never flown before, but it feels natural now. She is finding new expressions of her power everyday, and she realises she still doesn’t know the depth of it.

Sam waves when he sees her, and Vision greets her awkwardly. At six weeks old, he is starting to understand the he doesn’t quite understand human interaction, and is awkward with it. It is surprisingly cute, and it makes her smile genuinely, even around the tight worry and fear in her chest. She hears Steve tell Natasha that they are not a team, and Natasha reply that they’ll beat them into shape, and fear sinks deeper into her chest. She is not sure she has made the right decision. But the Avengers must not know. They have been kind, but she knows how shallow kindness can be. Life has taught her not to trust kindness. Hydra has taught her well that the things which seem to good to be true are. They must not know. They must not suspect. She will just have to be careful.

They are given a team exercise first, Sam, Vision, and her. Their job is to protect seven ‘civilians’ made from cloth and wire and sawdust, while Steve and Natasha try to kill them. Wanda, Sam and vision talk briefly, and make a plan. They push the dummies into a group in a corner, and Wanda lands in front of them and shields. Sam takes on Steve, and Vision takes on Natasha. It puts her on the sidelines, blocking the occasional chalk bullet, and it suits her well. She focuses hard on her shielding, knowing she is protecting much more than sawdust dummies. It is good she is so careful, because Steve throws his shield at the dummies hard. It strikes her shield and she feels the force of it, but the shield holds and she throws it back towards him just as hard, turning it at the last moment with a flash of red so that the front rather than the edge collides with his side. It knocks him off balance and Sam takes instant advantage, and a minute later Steve taps out. With both Sam and Vision fighting Natasha she follows soon after. Wanda cautiously lets the shield drop and feels relief fill her.

But she has relaxed too soon, because they are not done. Natasha pairs them up to fight, Vision against Steve, Wanda against Sam. Natasha is going to watch them, and Wanda doesn’t like it. She doesn’t want Natasha watching her. Natasha’s eyes are too sharp, and she must not know. She cannot avoid it however, so she faces Sam in the air. Natasha blows a whistle, and she sweeps her power outwards but Sam has been faster, and he has already flown in close. Too close. Wanda is not good at close combat. There is no time to react. No time to plan. No time to focus.

She twists out of the way of his first two blows, but the third hits her shoulder, knocking her through the air, and Sam follows before she can recover. His next blow snaps through the air towards her belly and Wanda reacts before she even registers her own panic and terror. Red blasts out of her in every direction, flinging Sam through the air like a rag-doll thrown by a tantruming child, and below them Vision, Steve and Natasha stumble. She catches Sam before he can hit the wall, stopping his momentum and lowering him to the floor, but panic is surging through her. They were not supposed to strike hard. They were supposed to be sparring, not fighting. Both Steve and Natasha were firm on it. She has broken the rules. She is going to be punished. The Avengers haven’t punished her before. She doesn’t know what to expect. She doesn’t know what they will do. Where will they strike her? Will they torture her? Will they hit her stomach? Will they find out? Will they hurt her unborn daughter?

She sinks to the floor, trying to control her crackling power, but it is already too late. She knew the rules, and she broke them. She will be punished. She sinks to the floor, curls in and wraps her arms around her stomach, desperately hoping it will be over soon. She wraps a thick red shield around her abdomen underneath her dress and she prays with every fibre of her being that it is enough. Steve and Natasha run towards her and a sob slips past her lips. “Please.” she begs “Please. I’m sorry. Please.” Steve reaches her first, and she waits for his boot to connect with her body, but it does not. Her power snaps at her skin, aching to be released, to answer her fear, but she’d only make it worse. “Please.” she begs again. “I’ll obey. Please.”

“Steve give her space!” Natasha says, her voice low and urgent and her English jarring. Wanda doesn’t know what she means and fear twists deeper. Space for what?

“Please.” she begs again, even though it has never helped before. It will not help now, but she can’t stop the word tumbling passed her lips, the Sokovian even more useless than English would have been, but she has always pleaded in Sokovian. She has always screamed in Sokovian.

“Nobody is going to hurt you Wanda.” Natasha said, and Wanda whimpered. The words are a lie. How can they be anything but a lie? “We are not going to punish you. You are safe here. We are not like Hydra. Nobody is going to hit you, you have my word.”

Wanda struggles to understand the Russian, although it is easier than English, but still she dares not believe. A street gang. Hydra. Avengers. Everyone is the same. Deep down. The world is cruel and mistakes are punished. It is how the world works. She learned that well from the soldiers.

“Steve, Sam, Vision: go. Give us the room.” Natasha orders, speaking English again. She sounded native, not the slightest Russian accent, and Wanda wishes she could speak English so well. It would not help her now anyway. The men leave, and fear tightens even deeper in her chest. She knows what follows all but one leaving. It is worse than any number of strikes. She did not think a woman would do it to her, but perhaps there are things even a woman enjoys.   
  


“Please, I’m sorry. Please no. Please.” she begs, and in despair she tries English, but she doesn’t think it will help, and the words fade into whispers and then silence, and she becomes still, and cold, and silent. Her power gutters in the face of her fear, and inside she is still, and cold, and silent, and After has come again.

Natasha is holding something when she returns, but Wanda cannot sense what it is, she cannot focus her power enough, and her eyes are pressed tightly closed.

“Wanda, I’ve got an energy drink and a chocolate bar for you. The sugar will help. I can’t leave you alone like this, but I’m going to back away and go sit on the bench ok? I know you don’t believe me, but I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to leave the food for you here.”   
  
Wanda presses her eyes shut, wanting so desperately to believe her but inside she is still, and cold, and silent, and she dares not. She knows this feeling too well. She knows what always comes when she feels this way. She knows it far, far too well. But Natasha acts like her words are truth, and she places something on the ground and then retreats, her usually light footsteps heavy and audible, and something like hope lights up in her chest. She blinks her eyes open, just a second, and sees Natasha far away. She risks another look but the rest of the gym she can see is empty. There is no-one close. No-one close enough to strike her. No-one close enough to touch her. The faintest drop of relief trickles through her body, and she experimentally loosens her fetal position, but nobody runs for her when she shows vulnerability.

Slowly, slowly, she sits up. Pulls her knees up and stretches her dress over them to hide her bump better. Picks up the chocolate bar and opens it. It tastes like childhood and treats and delight, and something pangs inside at the thought that Pietro isn’t awake to share it with. In her belly, her daughter gives an experimental kick, and she knows her baby has sensed her fear. She wants to rub her hand against her belly, wants to whisper an apology to her daughter, but she dares not. Natasha is still sitting on the bench, and Wanda is not yet fully sure she will not be punished. But if she is about to be punished this is the strangest road towards it she has ever seen. She finishes the chocolate bar and still Natasha does not move and the men do not return.

Perhaps she really isn’t being punished. Perhaps the Avengers truly are different. Perhaps she is safe here.

She gets up slowly, a strange tremor in her limbs that sometimes follows still and cold and silent. She picks up the drink and walks carefully towards Natasha. She stays well out of arm reach, but still too close, and fear prickles inside her chest.

“I’m sorry.” she says, and she isn’t sure if she is apologising for throwing Sam across the room, or for falling apart afterwards.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Natasha says firmly, some emotion Wanda can’t place swimming in her eyes. “This is why we train. We can work on control and threat assessment another day.”

Wanda doesn’t tell her that her threat assessment hadn’t been wrong, even if her reaction was too strong. She doesn’t say that the blow to her stomach might have done much worse than hurt. She has not been punished, but that does not mean she can trust the Avengers. “And today?” she asks.

“No more training today.” Natasha says, her eyes still swimming with emotion. “Just rest. I know you don’t believe me, I know how worthless words can be, but let us show you. We are not Hydra. We’re not going to hit you for making mistakes, or for anything. We will _never_ hit you or starve you or harm you in any way as punishment, and we’re not going to punish you for mistakes.”

Wanda wants to believe her. She wants deeply to believe her, but she does not. Everybody lies. She can only trust Pietro. He is the only one she can rely on. He is the only one she is certain will never hurt her. As she would never hurt him. They only have each other.

But Natasha seems to mean her words, and she does not stop her from leaving the gym. Wanda hopes it means her words are true, but she cannot rely on it. She must not. She has more than herself to protect.

She needs Pietro to wake up. She needs Pietro’s eyes. She needs to talk to him. To know what he thinks. They have always looked with two pairs of eyes. Without him she feels half blind. She needs him to wake up. She needs her brother. She needs him now. She is running out of time. She feels it in her body. Pietro must wake up. He must. He _must_.

\------------

Wanda wakes up when it is still dark out, with familiar tight cramping feeling in her stomach. It is not unusual. She has been having the strange tightening for over a month now, although the discomfort is greater than usual. And it has been a long, long, long time since she has slept through the night. Sleeping on the streets does not encourage deep sleep, and her dreams had long been haunted. She closes her eyes and tries to go back to sleep, but sleep will not come, and she gives up eventually. She sits by the window and watches the sun rise, wincing as she gets another strange tightening in her stomach. It seems today is going to be extra uncomfortable. She stands up to fetch a snack from the desk, and finds the walking helps, and walks until the discomfort is gone, munching on her snack. Her room is bigger than any room she’s ever slept in before, and usually it feels uncomfortable but today it is nice.

When the sun is up she dresses and walks to the medical wing to visit Pietro. She sits by her brothers bed and cards her fingers through his hair and silently begs him to wake up. She needs him. She misses him. She is worried. She is so, so, so worried.

She is worried he will never wake up.

She leaves when it is nearing breakfast time, and goes to the kitchen. She cooks quickly, the actions of making porridge familiar and mindless, even though she is doing half the work with her power as she walks around the kitchen. The strange tightening feel is more frequent today. She pours the porridge into a bowl, and cleans the pan with her power while she adds strawberries and honey. Wanda loves both, and has rarely had either, and this feels decadent and almost guilty but she knows she needs to eat a variety of things, for her daughter. She hears a door opening in the distance and grabs her bowl, quickly heading out the opposite door and taking the long way back to her room. She isn’t ready to talk to anyone, not after yesterday. And she dares not be around them. Not when this strange discomfort could strike at any moment. The Avengers must not know. Not until Pietro wakes. She must protect her daughter.

She needs Pietro to wake up. She needs him to help protect her baby. She needs him here with her. He must wake up. He must.

She locks her door behind her and sits down long enough to eat the porridge before it cools, and then goes back to walking. Once she’s started it is strangely hard to stop. She counts how many times she has walked around the room until she loses track, and then starts over. Her stomach clenches tighter than ever before and she gasps in shocked pain. She has felt much worse, but she had not expected it this time. An itchy feeling runs down her leg but she doesn’t want to bend over to soothe it. She doesn’t want to trigger another tightening. It hurts.

She wants Pietro. Things are never as bad when they are together. She wants Pietro. She needs him to wake up.

But he hasn’t, and Wanda has survived six weeks without him and she can survive another day, or another week or however long it takes. She can. She must.

He must wake up. It won’t be long now. She knows it in her soul. He must wake before her daughter comes. He must. He must.

She keeps walking, and the pain passes, but the itchiness worsens, and she finally leans over to scratch, but her fingers find damp cloth. She frowns in confusion, and reaches further, feeling the wetness all down her leg, and only now noticing it on the carpet. She has left a trail as she walked. Strange, she had not felt her daughter kick her bladder this time. She had not felt herself pee. She flushes, her cheeks burning with shame, and goes to the bathroom to clean up. She will work out what to do about the carpet afterwards.   
  


But when she reaches the bathroom pain stabs through her stomach, and she cries out.

Something has changed. She feels it in her body. Something is different. Something is wrong.

Her pregnancy has been a series of gradual changes, but this is not gradual, this is quick, and liquid is beginning to soak her legs more quickly now, and she doesn’t think this is pee. This is something from her belly. Nonononono.

Is this supposed to happen? Is something wrong? It is less than a day since she trained. Since she took a stupid, stupid risk. Has she hurt her daughter? Something is wrong. Something is _wrong_. Her power swirls around her fingers in panicked tangles, dancing around her stomach but not giving her any more information. She doesn’t know what to do. Something is different. Something is wrong. A protective layer around her daughter is pouring out of her, splattering the bathroom floor. This cannot be good. Something is wrong! Something is...pain hits, less sudden this time but sharper, and she moans, some instinct forcing her feet into movement. Into walking. Walking helps.

She needs to do something. Her daughter has lost a protective layer. Something is wrong. Her baby could be hurt. She needs Pietro. She needs Pietro to be awake. She needs her brother. She needs his eyes, she needs his mind, she needs his watchful protection. They have always protected each other when they need it. But now Pietro is asleep and she has to work out how to protect her daughter alone.

Pain strikes again, and she sobs with pain and fear and panic. She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to do. She wants her momma. She wants her brother. Pietro. Pietro. Pietro. Why wouldn’t he wake? What if he never woke? Her power flares around her and several things slide off the desk. Her dress billows around her, and her tights are wet and horrible. She stumbles to a stop and uses her power more than her hands to wrestle them off, desperately trying to make her mind think.

She has to do something. That liquid was protecting her daughter. She hadn’t known it was there but now she can feel its absence. Her daughter might get hurt. She needs to speak to someone. She needs to speak to a doctor. Her daughter could be hurt.

But the Avengers must not know. Pietro has not woken, and she cannot protect her daughter alone. He must wake. He must wake.

But for now he has not woken, and she must see a doctor. She must leave. She must go back to the city. Find a hospital. She has money now, she can pay for a doctor. She does not need to tell them her name. They can tell her if her daughter will be alright.

She pulls on a jacket and fills the pockets with money, instinctively cradling her belly. There is a constant dull ache around her stomach and she is scared. She is so, so, so, so scared. She wants Pietro. She wants her brother. He must wake up. She needs him. She needs him. He has always been there for her, as she has for him. Why hasn’t he woken up?

She heads towards the door, mentally planning the quietest route out. Nobody can see her. She isn’t sure she can hide her belly at the moment. Everything hurts, and she is frightened in a way she has never been before. She has felt fear: unadulterated, uncontrolled fear, even such fear for someone she loves, but never like this. She is all her daughter has. It is her responsibility to protect her. And she failed. She made the wrong choice. She shouldn’t have trained. Now something is wrong and there is less protecting her daughter and she is so, so scared.

She reaches to unlock her door but before she can pain hits again, sudden agony she isn’t prepared for, and a wail tears out of her throat. It is too loud and she flinches from more than pain. There are heavy footsteps down the corridor. Steve. No. No. They must not know.

“Wanda? Are you alright?”

“I am fine!” she calls, and she is trying to make her voice sound normal but her stomach hurts and something is wrong and she is so, so, so scared. “I hit my knee, I am sorry I shouted. I am fine.” she repeats, but it is not enough.

“Are you sure, you sounded in a lot of pain. I’ve got a first aid kit if you need it?”

“I am fine.” she repeated again, but her stomach tightens into agony again, and she can’t bite back her cry quickly enough. Through a wave of pain she sees her door handle twist, but it is still locked. Tears of pain slide down her face and she is trapped and she doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to do. She wants Pietro. _She_ _wants Pietro_.

“Wanda open the door!”

That was Natasha. No. No! They need to go. They need to go so she can leave unseen and go to a hospital. Before it is too late. This hurts. It hurts so bad, and she thinks she is in labour, but she is still at least a week early and she doesn’t know if something is wrong and it hurts so much.

“I am fi-aaahhhhhh” she can’t stop the scream. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“ _Wanda!!_ Vision get the door open!”

No! Vision can walk through walls. _No! They must not see! They must not know!_ Her power lashes out without even a thought, responding to her pain and panic. She feels it fling Vision back, feels it push Natasha and Steve and Sam back too, sees it push all her furniture away from her. Her next contraction hits and she screams in pain again, Pietro’s name tearing from her lips without a conscious though.

Pietro. She needs Pietro. He must wake up. She needs him. She needs him. She needs him. Please, wake up. Please Pietro. Please.

She is on the floor, and she can’t even remember ending up there. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

The next contraction hits and she screams, and when she opens her eyes the lights are all out and Steve is standing in her broken doorway with a look of panic on his face.

No. Nononononononononononono. Not her daughter. Not her baby. No. Please. No. They must not know. She needs Pietro. She needs him. She needs him. She needs him.

“ _Are you pregnant??_ ” Steve’s voice is strange and different and high and panicked but Wanda can’t deal with that. Her own panic is too strong. They can’t know. They must not know.

“ _Fuck! Steve, I think she’s in labour! Fuck! What do we_ _ **do**_ _?!!?!?_ ” Sam. That is Sam. No. They must not know. Nonononono.

The next contraction hits and everything is lost as pain covers everything.   
  
“Stop standing there and _get a doctor_!” Natasha snaps, but her voice is threaded with panic too and everything Wanda feels is panic. Her daughter is coming and the Avengers know and she can’t protect her baby, and Pietro has not woken and _it hurts_!!!

Natasha drops to the floor beside her, one hand grabbing her wrist and taking her pulse and for the moment Natasha is helping her. For the moment that has to be enough. She can’t do anything else. She _can’t do anything else_. They are going to take her baby! No. No. She doesn’t know that. They haven’t done it yet. She will protect her daughter. She will find a way. They might not even try. They have been kind to her. Kinder than anyone since their parents died. They did not punish her for breaking the rules. They have to be different. They must be. They must. She cannot protect her daughter if they are not.

The next contraction hits and her panic is swallowed in pain. When it clears she is shaking, and her face is wet with tears and sweat and Natasha is trying not to panic next to her.

“How far along are you? Fuck, how long have you been pregnant? _How long_?”

“Al-most...nine...m-months” she gasped, struggling to breathe. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

“ _Nine months! Ultron was six weeks ago!”_   
  


Another contraction hit and Wanda doesn’t have to answer as the world blurs into pain and tightness and agony. She is a bad mother. She knows it. She messed up. She took her baby into a war-zone and then she trained and everything hurts and she doesn’t know if her daughter is ok. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. Another contraction hits and she screams again.

“It’s ok. It’s ok Wanda. A doctor is coming. The boys are getting one. You’re going to be ok.”

“You...are...ly-ing.” Wanda gasped. Natasha can’t know that. Wanda doesn’t know that.

“No, I’m not. Clint has kids remember? I was there when Laura was in labour with Lila. For the beginning anyway. This is normal. It’s going to be ok.”

“ _It...hurts._ ” she choked out, and wailed as the next contraction hit.   
  
“I know. The doctor will be here soon. He’ll help. I promise.”

“ _Pietro_ ” she sobbed “ _I want Pietro._ ”

Natasha made a broken noise, and didn’t answer, stroking her hair back from her face with calmer hands now, and Wanda can almost, almost believe it is going to be ok. She screams through the next contraction, but when it clears there are running footsteps in the distance.

“I’ll...kill...you” she panted “if...you...take...her.”

“I won’t. Nobody will. No-one will take your baby. You’re safe here. I promise. Everything is going to be ok.”

Wanda prayed she was telling the truth. She prayed with every fibre of her being that she was safe. That her daughter was safe. The next contraction hit and she screamed, and when it faded a doctor in a lab-coat is sitting next to her, and horrible memories tangle with the pain in her body and she whimpers in fear.

“Hey there, I’m Doctor Smith, I’m going to help you. Do you know what’s happening?”

“L-labour” she panted, and the doctor looked at Natasha, a frown wrinkling her face, and Wanda realises she is speaking Sokovian. She has always screamed in Sokovian.

“She says she’s in labour.”

“Alright, you’re doing well. I’m just going to see how far along you are. Here, why don’t you hold Ms Romanoff’s hand?”

A hand slid into hers, and Natasha squeezed her hand briefly. The next contraction hit and she screamed again. Everything hurts. She doesn’t know if something is wrong. Her daughter. She can’t tell if her daughter is ok. Another contraction hits, and the pain is worse than ever before, and through it she hears someone shout “ _Push!_ ” and she is pushing and screaming and pleading for Pietro, but her brother isn’t here. She feels something in her groin tear and it _hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts_. The pain is never-ending. Another contraction washes over her and she screams as she pushes. Screams as she has so many times before. Screams because it feels like the pain will never end. Screams because she is pinned down. Screams because there is no where to run.

A baby’s cry pieces the air and reality rushes back in, and that is her daughter. Her baby. Her daughter. Strength she didn’t know she had fills her arms and she reaches up, wordlessly begging. Please. Please. Please. Don’t take her. Please. Not her daughter. Not her baby. Please. Please.

Her daughter weighs so little, but she is in her arms. Her little face is wrinkled and screwed up, and her skin is slimy but she is warm and breathing and safe. Another contraction washes over her and she wails with pain and something else is coming out of her body, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Her daughter is safe. Her daughter is healthy. She can feel it. Her tiny body is so different to Wanda’s own, but her heart is beating and her lungs are working and she is safe and in her arms. Her baby girl.

“Wanda, you have a vaginal tear, I need to sew it up. You’re doing so well, you’ve been so brave, I just need you to be brave a little longer, ok?”

Wanda gulps in a breath and nods, her eyes not leaving her daughter. Her baby girl, finally in her arms. The contractions are easing now, and the pain of being stitched up is mild in comparison, and it doesn’t matter at all when she looks at her baby in her arms. She wishes Pietro were here. She wishes he was here to hold his niece. To be with her. Wanda misses him. She feels his absence like a soul deep ache. Her twin doesn’t even know she was pregnant.

“All done now. May I take your baby now? Just for a moment.”   
  
Red flares all around her, surging with her panic. No! _**No!**_

“Ow!”

“Shh, shh Wanda, it’s ok. She’s not taking your baby away, she just needs to know if she’s healthy. I’ll watch her. I’ll make sure she’s safe, but you have to let her look.”

Reluctantly, Wanda let her daughter be picked out of her arms, her power dancing around her daughter, around the doctor, a constant, silent threat. But only a minute later her baby is back in her arms, and the doctor is telling her her daughter is healthy. Wanda could have told her that. She feels it.

“You got a name for her?” Natasha asks softly.

“Davina.” she says, the Hebrew word rolling off her tongue. “Davina Petra Maximoff.”

A Hebrew name that meant adored, once her grandmama’s, now her daughters. And the female form of Pietro, for her brother. Her daughters uncle.

He will wake up. Maybe not today. Maybe not this week. But he will wake up. And when he does, he will love Davina, as Wanda does. He will have them, and they will have him. They will be together. It will be enough. It will be more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out...I have writers block.... *cries in frustration*

Two hours later, when Wanda has been helped to the medical bay, and reluctantly allowed herself to be examined, and she has nursed Davina and her daughter has fallen asleep in her arms, she listens in on the Avengers talking outside. She is not meant to be able to hear, but it is easy to draw the draft towards her with a curl of her power, and the sounds float over to her bed.

“She can’t stay here.”

“What the hell Nat? Of course she’s staying here!”

“Shh, and calm down Steve, I wasn’t suggesting we kick her out.”

“I don’t think she has anywhere else to go.”

“Then we find her somewhere. She thinks we’re going to take Davina from her.” Wanda’s breath caught in her throat, and red light flared around her, half forming into a protective shield at Natasha’s words. If they haven’t thought of it before, they have now.

“Why would we do that?”

“She and Pietro were with Hydra remember, I’m sure Wanda can think of plenty of reasons why someone might want to take her child. I can think of at least seven.”

_Seven_? Wanda knows of two! Fear sends her power lashing around her, and Davina stirs in her arms. The remains of a juice cartoon and snack bar fly off a table and hit the wall, and Wanda freezes.

There is a sigh from outside “It’s rude to eavesdrop Wanda.”

Fear tightens in her chest and a shield forms around her with barely a thought as the door opens. Natasha freezes in place instantly, looking between Davina and Wanda and the shield.

“I’m not mad at you Wanda.” Natasha said, switching to Russian and meeting her eyes “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt Davina. May I come in?”

Wanda swallowed nervously, but Natasha seemed to be taking charge of all this, and she needed to hear what was being said. She slowly pulled her shield in closer until it only just covers her and Davina.

“Thank you.” Natasha says, her voice low, and she walks in slowly and carefully, like Wanda is a mouse that might suddenly bolt. She isn’t sure if the idea comforts her. She isn’t sure if Natasha is an older, braver mouse, or the cat. She cannot trust them. She can trust only Pietro.

Natasha takes a seat a little distance from her, and links her fingers together on her lap. It lets Wanda see her hands are empty, and she wonders if it is deliberate. But Steve, Sam, and Vision crowd into the doorway, and it is the only way out of the medical bay and she can’t stop her eyes flickering constantly between them and Natasha. Natasha follows her eyes.

“Steve, can you call Tony and Pepper? Tell them what’s going on and that the media can’t know about this. Sam, Vision, go find something to do or I’ll find you something.” Wanda catches the edge of her glare as she turns back round to face Wanda and feels something loosen in her chest. Natasha is unmistakably the cat, she could never be a mouse, but she thinks Natasha is on her side.

Steve, Sam and Vision scatter, and Wanda hesitantly lets her shield fall, but she watches Natasha carefully. She prays she has not made a mistake. She doesn’t know if she can protect Davina without Pietro. They have always protected each other. Fighting alone feels like fighting with half her limbs and eyes. Like the battle is lost before it even begins.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha says, and Wanda frowns.

“Why? What have you done?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Then why are you sorry?”

“I should have noticed. I _would_ have noticed if I’d spent less time acting like you might turn on me at any moment and more time remembering how I felt when Clint first brought me in. But I didn’t. I did nothing. I left you alone.”

Wanda looked away “I do not want your pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding. You don’t trust me, or any of us. That’s ok, trust is earned.”

“I haven’t earned your trust.” Wanda pointed out.

Natasha’s inclined her head “No, but I’m not outnumbered and alone and protecting an infant.”

Wanda gulped, her situation looked even bleaker put that bluntly.

“That wasn’t meant as a threat.”  
  


“What did you mean I can’t stay here?” Wanda interrupted.

Natasha looked at her steadily “There is a constant collection of journalists camped outside the Compound. There are a constant stream of builders and gardeners still wandering around, and security is still a work in progress. It is only a matter of time before one catches sight of Davina if you stay here, and I won’t lie to you, that would be bad. We will not take her from you, but there are people out there who would, and it would be better if they didn’t know she existed. At least for now, it isn’t safe for you two to be here. And I don’t think you want to be here do you?”

“I want to be an Avenger.” Wanda says, and she means it.

“If you think either Steve or I are going to let you train anytime soon you have another thing coming! You need to rest! And do you really want to spend all your time looking over your shoulders here?”

“I have no where else to go.” Wanda pointed out.

“Clint has invited you to stay with his family. Nathaniel is only a few days older than Davina and he isn’t coming back to work anytime soon. He’s only one Avenger, his family aren’t soldiers or agents or scientists, and their home is off the grid. You’ll be safe there, and Clint and Laura can help you learn to look after Davina. I don’t imagine you’ve had many infant care classes.”

Wanda lets her lips twitch, but she thinks about the offer. It sounds good. Too good to be true. But she thinks she trusts Clint. More than the others anyway. Clint offered to let her hide during the battle. He saw her fear and he didn’t take advantage, or push it aside to use her. And she did not take Clint’s mind. He has less reason to want her to hurt. And he is only one man, that had to be better than four people to keep watch on. But... “Pietro.”

Natasha shook her head “Pietro has to stay here. The farm doesn’t have the medical equipment to look after him, and it would be suspicious to move him to a hospital far away from New York for no reason. We can set up a live-feed from the medical bay camera, so you can see he is safe, and we will call you if anything changes.”

No. She has to stay with Pietro. She has to stay with her brother. She needs him. He needs her. They have never been truly apart, not a day in their lives. She can’t. She can’t.

But she has Davina now. She must protect Davina. They are not safe here. Natasha is right, if the media find out about her daughter, there are many people who will come looking. They must not find out. That the Avengers know is bad enough. Nobody else can know. She knows she cannot protect Davina if soldiers come for her baby. Davina is her responsibility. She has no-one but Wanda. She cannot protect both Pietro and Davina. She must choose, and even in a coma, Pietro is far less helpless. Her vision goes blurry, and tears slip down her face as she looks across the room at her brother, but she knows what she must do. If Pietro was awake, he would tell her to do so himself. She knows he would. She knows him like she knows herself. Pietro would tell her to protect Davina above everything. He would take on the whole world if he had to to protect Davina.

“Look after him. Please.” she begged.

“We will. I promise. We’ll protect all three of you.”

Wanda doesn’t answer. Her heart is tearing into pieces. Why couldn’t Pietro have woken up? Why wouldn’t he wake? She wants her brother. She misses him. She misses him so, so, so much. She has never been apart from him for long. Never gone a day without seeing him. Without confirming for herself that he is ok. She feels half-blind without her brothers eyes. Stranded without his speed. Helpless without half the limbs she has always been able to rely upon. She has always held on for him. Fought for him. Carried on for him. Now she must go somewhere completely new, journey into the unknown for her daughter, and leave him behind.

Why wouldn’t he wake? Why Pietro? Why?

\-------------

Natasha says they will leave right after lunch and leaves her to get some rest, but Stark arrives only two minutes after she leaves. He walks into the medical bay with Sam trailing him and protesting that she’s supposed to be resting, but Stark isn’t good at being told no. Wanda thinks he doesn’t look so good. His face is flushed and his hair is messy and he stares at the towel wrapped bundle in her arms with despair on his face. Wanda knew despair. She and Pietro had seen it every day of their lives on the streets. They’d worn it themselves often enough. Red light flickered agitatedly around her and her arms tightened around Davina.

“It’s true then.” Stark said, his voice sounding bleak. He took a step forwards, his eyes on Davina.

“Stop.” Wanda snapped, remembering just in time to speak in English. A thought sends her power flaring out, forming a wall between Stark and her daughter. Wanda knew too well how easily despair could turn into desperation, how rash the choices made in those moments could be. Despair and desperation combined had sent her and Pietro to Strucker. She must not allow Stark near her daughter.

“I told you not to bother her!” Sam piped up, grabbing his arm and trying to tug him back out, but Stark shook him off. Without even realising it, Wanda started to trust Sam a little piece more.

“Is she alright? She’s healthy right? You’re healthy aren’t you? Do you need a doctor?” Stark’s words were fast, tumbling over each other and growing into desperation the more he talked and Wanda knew she was right to shield. Why did Stark care? What was so important about her daughter’s health that it could make a powerful man so desperate?

“Why do you ask?” she snapped, and without even thinking her power flared out, snapping into place over the door, trapping Sam and Stark between shimmering walls of red. Sam looked uneasily between Wanda and the door, but Stark did not seem to notice.

“Why do I--? You were in a _warzone six weeks ago_!! _Because of me! If she’s hurt---_ ” Stark choked off into silence and Wanda felt a prickle of surprised shame. Had she not felt exactly the same when the city started falling and she’d thought she was about to die, taking her daughter with her? Hadn’t she felt that same desperation. Perhaps she should not be so quick to jump to the worst conclusions. Stark had been kind to her, despite her part in creating Ultron, and everything she’d done at the shipping yard.

“Davina is healthy.” she told him, letting her shields fade away. Stark didn’t seem to notice, just running a hand through his already messy hair.

“And you? Are you-”

“I am fine. Just tired.” It wasn’t quite true. Wanda ached all over, and exhaustion seemed to be sinking into her very bones, and her heart was tearing in half knowing she was soon going to be leaving Pietro. But she was not hurt. She knew her body, knew she would heal. “This is not your fault.” she added “I was the one who chose to fight in Sokovia.”

Wanda meant her words. She suspected those decisions would haunt her for the rest of her life. She would never forget the horror of the belief that she had killed her unborn daughter. She dreaded the moment Pietro found out.

Stark didn’t look any less guilty “Is there anything I can do? Do you need to call anyone?”

The question sent an aching pang through Wanda’s chest. It had been a long, long time since she and Pietro had had anyone to call. They’d only had their parents and Grandmama, and they had all died long ago. She could not even tell Pietro, who should have known long ago. She wanted to tell him. She wanted her brother to wake. She wanted him to meet her daughter. To see him moving, to see his face animated and alive, to see her own joy reflected in Pietro’s face, to see his arms cradle his niece. She wanted Pietro. “No.”

“Are you sure? What about her father?”

Wanda’s breath caught, and a twist of still and cold and silent stabbed at her stomach. “She has no father.”

“Everyone has a--”

“ _ **She has no father!**_ ” Wanda snarled, and there was rage, rage, rage in her words, in her voice, in her body. Davina woke up in her arms and started to wail, and guilt stabbed through Wanda, and the rage disappeared as quickly as it came, hidden inside Wanda with still and cold and silent.

Stark and Sam were frozen, shock on both their faces, rapidly giving way to horrified suspicion, and Wanda cannot bear it.

“Go away.” she spat. “Go!” and Sam reached out and started pulling Stark away, and this time, he didn’t fight. The door closed behind them and Wanda through up a shield to stop anyone else entering, tears sliding down her face even as she rocked Davina, humming a broken lullaby as she fought her tears.

Davina had no father, she had only a mother. Only Wanda. And Pietro. When Pietro woke he would love her, Wanda didn’t doubt it for a moment. Pietro would love Davina with every beat of his too-fast heart. Davina would have Wanda, and she would have Pietro, and it would be enough. They would have each other, and it would be enough. It would be more than enough.

Pietro would wake. He would.

He had to.

\-----------

The flight is horrible.

Wanda is tired. She is more tired than she can ever remember being before, even though on the streets there had been many weeks she and Pietro had not found anywhere safe to sleep and had slept only in shifts. This is worse. She is tired to the bone and most of her body aches. She had a brief nap after Stark and Sam left, and Davina settled again, but was woken all too soon by Natasha with lunch. She eats quickly, then nurses Davina again when Natasha goes to prepare the plane.

Davina doesn’t go back to sleep after nursing, but starts to whimper and then to wail as Wanda carries her (slowly, because she hurts) to the quinjet. Wanda bounces her gently in her arms but she doesn’t think it will help. She can sense the pain radiating from her daughters small body, concentrated around her belly, and her chest is tight with fear. What is wrong?

Natasha looks up when she climbs into the quinjet “Does she need feeding?”

“I fed her, she needs a doctor. She’s in pain.” Wanda said, fear bleeding through her voice.

Natasha frowned, instantly abandoning the controls “Where?”

“Her belly” Wanda answered instantly.

“Did you burp her?”

“What?”

“When I told you to rub her back after nursing her earlier, did you do that again?”

Wanda shook her head silently, guilt twisting instantly and deep into her heart. She is the reason her daughter is in pain.

“Do it now.” Natasha advised “The pain is probably because of the trapped air in her stomach.”

Wanda obeyed, cradling her daughter upright on her shoulder with one arm, as Natasha had directed earlier and rubbing her back with the other hand. She felt small and miserable with guilt. Her forgetfulness, her inexperience to know that that was important, had hurt Davina.

“You’ll learn. Give it time.” Natasha said.

“I do not have time.” Wanda said miserably, just as Davina suddenly puked over her shoulder.

Natasha winced “I forgot that might happen. Sorry. There are clean shirts in the back over there. Sam packed some stuff for you.”

Wanda looked over and then shook her head. She had no intention of taking off her clothes in the open space of the plane. “It is fine. Her pain is fading.”

“Good. Clint and Laura are better at this. I was only around a very little when Lila was this small. They’ll be able to help more.”

Wanda nodded, feeling small and useless and stupid. The journey only got worse after they took off. Davina went back to sleep after Wanda burped her, but despite her exhaustion Wanda couldn’t even imagine doing the same. She could not letting go of her daughter in the air as there was no way to strap her daughter in safely. Even if there had been, she wouldn’t have.  
  
And worse than the exhaustion, so, so much worse, was the feeling of her connection to Pietro stretching and then slowly, slowly fading into nothing, until she couldn’t feel her brother at all. For the first time since she’d gained her power, she couldn’t feel her twin’s mind or body. For the first time since they were born, they were truly, properly apart. Wanda felt like she’d left part of herself behind. It made missing half her eyes and half her mind and half her limbs all the worse. She was too far away to know if he woke. Too far away to know if he was afraid. Too far away to know if he was in danger. Pietro was alone.

And so was Wanda. For the first time in her life, she was truly, utterly, alone.

\-----------

Clint looked better and worse than the last time Wanda saw him. Fear and guilt no longer covered his face, and he wasn’t covered in Pietro’s dried blood, and he looked genuinely happy (and Wanda could tell the difference, she had seen too many people faking happiness not to) but there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked tired.

But when he welcomed them it was with genuine enthusiasm. He waved as the quinjet ramp finished lowering, and came over to hug Natasha. Wanda hung back, holding Davina protectively in her arms. Clint took a step towards the quinjet ramp but Natasha caught his arm. Wanda twitched her fingers, tugging the breeze towards her to catch the words.

“Give her space, she’s still learning the difference between us and Hydra, don’t seem like you’re threatening Davina.”

Clint didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t walk into the quinjet either, instead waving for Wanda to come out. She did, slowly, trying not to look as wary as she felt. She did, to an extent, trust Clint, but that extent was small. There was only one person in the world Wanda was certain she could trust, and that was Pietro. Perhaps with her brother’s eyes as well, she could be confident about whether or not she could trust Clint, but with only one pair of eyes, Wanda was sure about nothing.

Clint didn’t try to hug her, but he grinned boyishly “Come inside, Laura’s dying to meet you.”

Wanda rather doubted that Clint’s wife would actually be happy to see the woman who had attacked the Avengers and helped create Ultron, but she had little choice so she followed him inside. It was messy inside the house, with coats hung up haphazardly and shoes abandoned around the door. Clint pushed them aside with his feet, frowning a little, but it disappeared quickly, and he led her further in, into a neater but still clearly lived in space that made a lump grow in Wanda’s throat.

This was a real home. It reminded her of better times. Before the bombs, when Mama and Papa and Pietro and safety had been her whole world. It was gone now. Even Pietro was gone. He would wake, in time, but that didn’t make him any less gone now. Wanda refused to think of the possibility that Pietro might never wake.

Two kids were playing with a model train set in the living room, one a girl with blond hair tied into braids, perhaps six years old, and the other a boy of about ten with messy dark hair. He looked so small, and it felt strange to think that Pietro had once been that small. That she and Pietro had been that small when the bombs had fallen and everything had changed. They had grown up fast those two days, looking at the bomb with Stark written on it and waiting to die. They’d grown up even faster in those few months in the orphanage, before they’d realised they could do better living on the streets and running errands and scams on tourists.

A sound from across the room made Wanda turn, and she saw a brown haired woman coming down the stairs.

“Nathaniel’s settled for now.” she said to Clint, before turning to Wanda, smiling with genuine warmth “You must be Wanda, sit down, you must be exhausted!” She crossed the room towards her, ignoring Clint’s subtle head shake, although Wanda thought she had seen it. Wanda let her approach, and didn’t startle when Laura put a hand on her back to steer her towards the sofa. Her eyes were kind, and Wanda trusted Laura at least as much as she trusted Clint or Natasha. Which granted, wasn’t a lot, but it was something. She let herself be sat down on the sofa, and Laura sat next to her. Natasha and Clint shrugged, and left the room, and Wanda relaxed further. The kids watched them with open curiosity.

“How old are you?” the girl asked.

“Lila!” Laura scolded, but Wanda didn’t mind. It had been so long since she’d been asked a question so common so innocently. In Hydra her age had mattered only as far as it affected her physically, and so affected the experiments.

“I’m seventeen.” she told Lila, ignoring Laura’s gasp “How old are you?”

She didn’t look at Laura, she didn’t want to see pity on her face. She was not young, not like Laura thought she was. Orphans on the streets grow up fast, and Wanda had lost anything remaining of childish hope after the first experiment in Hydra.

“Six” Lila said importantly, then “Cooper’s nine, but he’s a boy so I have to be your favourite.”

“Lila!” Laura scolded again, but Wanda burst into startled laughter, and Laura fell silent. Cooper just rolled his eyes. It felt good to laugh. Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so genuinely.

“How old is your kid?” Cooper asked.

“Umm” Wanda looked at the clock on the wall “Six hours.”

Both Lila and Cooper seemed unimpressed by this “Nathaniel’s four days old.” Cooper informed her.

“Can I hold her?” Lila asked.

Wanda leaned back slightly reflexively, and Lila’s face fell. Laura intervened swiftly “I think Wanda should get to cuddle Davina as much as she wants first, she’s only had her to cuddle for a few hours.”

Lila and Cooper seemed to accept this, because they went back to their trains. Wanda relaxed.

“Why don’t we move upstairs? We can change Davina into a babygro and I’ll show you your room.”

Wanda flushed, looking down at Davina, who was wearing a diaper of folded cloth and was wrapped in a soft blue blanket rather than baby clothes. There had been no time to go shopping for the things she’d need, and Natasha had said it was better not to draw attention by sending someone to buy baby things and bring them back to the Compound. “I don’t have anything to change her into.”

“I know, Natasha said, we have plenty.”

Wanda bit her lip, but nodded. She wasn’t sure what to do with Laura’s kindness anymore than she’d known what to do with Stark and the other Avenger’s kindness. But Davina needed this kindness, and in her heart Wanda knew she needed it too. She was alone here. Even Pietro was gone. She was utterly alone. She could not afford to turn down any kindness, even if it did turn out to come with a price.

But for now there seemed to be no price she was expected to pay. Laura took out baby clothes, and a diaper, and she talked Wanda through cleaning and dressing Davina. She didn’t try to physically help, and Wanda didn’t offer.  
  


“Thank you.” she said, when Davina was dressed and rapidly going back to sleep in her arms. Laura waved it away, and showed her to a bright airy room with a small bed and a quilt.

“I’m afraid we’ve only got the one cot. That’s one of the things we will need to get soon, but for now we’ve got a baby bouncer she can sleep in. “It’s a little old but it’s completely safe.” Laura said, pulling it out from next to the desk. Wanda hesitantly placed Davina in it, strapping her daughter in securely and giving the bouncer an experimental bounce. Davina stirred the tiniest amount, and then settled back into sleep.

“You should get some rest too, you must be absolutely exhausted.” Laura said, physically folding the blankets back and gesturing Wanda over. Wanda hesitated, but she was tired to the bone, and the bed was inviting. She picked the baby bouncer up, supporting it with her power, and placed it next to the bed where she could reach it easily, a red shield forming around it, even as her power kept it bouncing. She climbed into the bed under Laura’s watchful eye, and then to her shock the woman unfolded the blanket, pulling it over her shoulders before waving “Sleep well, I’ll wake you for dinner.” and then left, leaving stunned tears welling in Wanda’s eyes. She hadn’t been tucked into bed in seven years. Her childhood had ended with the abruptness of a bomb, and she’d never expected to ever be tucked in again. She closed her eyes, pushing the tears onto her eyelashes, and was asleep before the damp had dried, and dreamed of a time when Papa had told them bedtime stories and Momma had tucked them in.

\-----------

She woke only a few hours later, pulled back to wakefulness as she felt Davina’s hunger. Her daughter was just preparing to start crying when she reluctantly peeled her own eyes open, and she yawned widely as she picked her daughter up and prepared to nurse. She hoped the exhaustion would fade in time.

Half an hour later Davina was fed and burped (she would not forget again) and Wanda had put her back in the bouncer and was attempting to coax her back to sleep. Just as she finally seemed to be preparing to sleep again though, there was a knock on the door, and Davina’s eyes opened again as she turned towards the sound. Wanda glared blackly at the door and had to forcibly restrain the urge to say something very unkind to whoever was on the other side. “I’m awake.” she called instead, a little miserably.

The door opened to reveal Clint, carrying another baby. This must be Nathaniel Pietro Barton. He was cute, from what little Wanda could see of him. Pietro was going to be so smug when he woke and found two babies had been named after him. He was going to be unbearable. Wanda didn’t care. She just wanted her twin back.

“Dinners ready” Clint said in explanation to the knocking, but he didn’t turn to leave, instead approaching the bouncer and crouching down. Red light flared to life in Wanda’s palms without any conscious thought, and Clint stopped instantly.

“Swap you” he offered, straightening to offer Nathaniel to Wanda. She blinked in shock.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.” there was a _duh_ implied in his tone, and Wanda felt her lips twitch.

“Alright.” she said, carefully taking Nathaniel and making sure she supported his head and neck. Clint crouched back down to coo at Davina, gently taking her out of the bouncer, and Wanda watched warily for a moment, before looking down at Nathaniel and getting lost in his little blue eyes. He looked up at her in slight confusion and uneasiness, face screwed up like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to start crying. Wanda bounced him gently, a little uneasy herself. It wasn’t like holding Davina. Davina’s presence was as familiar to Wanda as Pietro’s and her own. Her mind and body were almost an extension of her own. Nathaniel was different. His mind didn’t reach to meet hers, and she didn’t reach out to him. He weighed very little different to Davina but his weight felt far stranger in her arms. But he was still small and adorable, and his tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers just like Davina’s did, and Wanda felt strangely protective of the boy. Perhaps this was normal for all mothers. Or perhaps it was normal for all adults holding a baby. Wanda wouldn’t know.

Davina let out an experimental uneasy wail, and Wanda looked up to see Clint bouncing her as she was bouncing Davina, looking perfectly at ease. But Wanda could sense Davina’s desire for her, and she reached for her daughter. Clint passed her back without complaint, taking Nathaniel from her in return. “She’ll warm up to me.” he said confidently “Come on downstairs.”

Wanda climbed out of bed, missing the warmth as she adjusted and feeling exhaustion sweep over her again. Davina whimpered in her arms, probably sensing her unhappiness, and Wanda soothed her gently. She padded after Clint down the stairs, into a brightly lit and warm kitchen, where Laura and the kids were already sitting at a table. Natasha was stirring a pot at the stove, which she switched off and brought to the table when she saw them, and took a seat between the two kids. Clint passed Nathaniel to Laura and started serving spaghetti and sauce into bowls, and Wanda went to sit in the only remaining space, between Lila and Laura. Lila gave her a beaming smile, and peered at Davina, who completely ignored her.

It was a nice meal. Wanda hadn’t eaten with others in weeks, and before that meals had mostly been eaten alone in her cell. It felt like a long, long time since she’d crowded around little fires with other street kids and she and Pietro had contributed whatever they’d managed to get that day. They hadn’t always given everything they’d found, earned, scammed or stolen, and there had been days when there had been nothing to give, and days when there was no campfire to be found, but usually they’d given at least something, and most nights they’d had at least something to eat. She and Pietro had trusted nobody but each other, but they had been at least kind of friends with others, and there had been stories and friendship around the fires. She had missed it. She felt a pang at the thought that Pietro wasn’t here to experience a mealtime again with her.

She didn’t talk much during the meal, just focused on eating carefully, leaning over to take bites so she didn’t risk dropping anything on Davina, and bouncing her between bites. Laura, Clint and Natasha passed Nathaniel between them and took turns to eat, but Wanda shook her head when Laura held her arms out for Davina. She wasn’t ready for that yet. It was so hard to know if she could trust without Pietro, and it had been so long since she’d truly trusted anyone. Letting Clint hold Davina as she held Nathaniel was as far as she’d go. There was nothing he would do when his own child was vulnerable.

Laura didn’t push, even though the kids eyed them curiously, and Wanda was grateful. The food was good - simple, warm and filling - and she enjoyed listening to the conversation. The kids pelted ‘Aunty Nat’ with questions about what she’d been doing and spoke over each other about what they themselves were doing, and Wanda was surprised to see how soft the assassin was with them. She looked so different from the woman whose mind Wanda had reached into and pulled terrible things out of. It did not make her feel better about it, but she pushed the thought away. She could not change the past.

Natasha left after dinner, to fly back to New York. She hugged Clint, Laura and the kids goodbye, but did not attempt to do the same with Wanda, or to even approach Davina. Instead she just said “Get some rest, we’ll look after Pietro.”

“Thank you.” Wanda said, and she tried not to let the depth and vulnerability of her gratefulness show. She did not know what would have happened to Davina if the Avengers hadn’t taken her in. They’d given her food and clothes and shelter, and Natasha, despite her own fear, had protected Davina without question, even though she hadn’t even known about her yesterday.  
  
Natasha shrugged, looking uncomfortable, and made a quick exit, waving goodbye to the kids as she did. Clint and Laura moved to start clearing up, passing Nathaniel carefully to Cooper. Wanda moved to do the same, but was given two scolding looks and firmly told to sit down and rest. Laura joined her only a few minutes later, looking tired herself, although she kept an eye on her kids. Lila and Cooper were busy cooing over their brother, and Wanda felt something ache inside. Pietro should be here, cooing over Davina. She missed her brother like the piece of her soul he was. She could not even feel his body or his closed off mind here.

Once clean-up was finished Laura took Nathaniel again and Clint sent the other two, protesting, to get ready for bed. There was an impressive amount of protesting, even as they complied, and Wanda let her lips twitch into a smile. Laura shook her head in exasperation, then turned to her. “Have you learned to top and tail yet?”

Wanda blinked at Laura, and shook her head, she didn’t even know what that was. Perhaps seeing her confusion, Laura explained “Infants can’t have baths when they are newborn, so we wash them by topping and tailing. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Wanda followed her to the bathroom, where they put Nathaniel and Davina down on a soft blanket and Laura gathered everything they’d need, explaining as she went. It wasn’t hard, and both babies were soon washed, re-diapered and dressed in clean clothes, and Laura shooed her off to bed with Davina. Laura’s warmth and care through her own tiredness made Wanda feel both warm and aching. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse, the fact that her Momma should have been here to teach her these things, or the fact that Pietro wasn’t here to learn these things with her and be hopelessly over protective. Wanda never thought she’d miss his over-protectiveness so deeply. She didn’t think she’d ever imagined missing Pietro would be so painful.

She’d never imagined they’d ever be parted at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep is scarce and Tony does nothing by halves

She slept as soon as she laid down that night, and slept in several hour chunks through the night and most of the morning, and finally felt like her tiredness was manageable. She changed Davina’s diaper and then went downstairs, driven by hunger. Clint was sitting on the sofa in the living room, Nathaniel in his arms, watching a cartoon with Cooper and Lila. Lila’s attention turned to her as soon as she entered the room.

“Can I hold Davina?”

“May I” Clint corrected from the sofa, sounding distinctly sleepy.

Wanda bit her lip, her stomach twisting in fear. She did not want to let anyone else hold Davina. Lila would not hurt her, and she had held Nathaniel securely yesterday, but she would obey Clint and pass him over if told, and Wanda did not trust Clint.  
  
“She’s sleeping.” she said finally, when the pause had gotten too long to ignore.

Lila pouted “I won’t wake her.”

“Leave Wanda alone butterfly, she said no.” Clint said from the sofa, where he was shaking his head a little as if to shake off the tiredness. Wanda frowned.

“Why haven’t you slept?”

Clint smiled wryly “Nathaniel didn’t sleep well.”

Waking up every few hours demanding milk was normal then. Wanda had been hoping it was only for the first night. Her face fell “How long until they sleep for longer than a few hours at a time?” she asked.

“Depends on the baby, this is normal for most of the first year.” Clint said, giving her a sympathetic look.

That was...not encouraging. Exhaustion was evidently going to become a new normal for Wanda. “Is there coffee?” She asked.

“In the kitchen” Clint said, getting up “You shouldn’t drink too much of it though if you’re going to keep breastfeeding, otherwise Davina will get part of the effect, and it’s not good for babies.”

Wanda thought of giving her daughter coffee and visibly cringed “Maybe I’ll skip the coffee.”

“One cup is fine.” Clint said, leading her into the kitchen. She tried not to visibly stiffen as he approached her and Davina, but Clint just walked past her and through the door into the kitchen. “And I’ll show you were the cereal and stuff is.”

Clint yawned widely, and took a mug out of the cupboard with one hand, placing it on the counter and then pouring coffee into it so he didn’t have to put Nathaniel down. He passed the mug to Wanda who breathed in the steam with pleasure. Before Hydra, she’d rarely drank coffee, but now she’d come to love it. She was not sure how to feel about that. Her head hurt at the thought that Hydra had given her good things too. They had hurt her and Pietro so deeply, with such little care for even their survival, until they became valuable. A traitorous thought in her mind said that they’d given her Davina, but she pushed it harshly away. Davina had no father. She did not regret her daughter’s existence, could never regret it, but what they did did not mean they had any part in Davina. Her daughter was perfect, she was nothing to do with the soldiers. Davina had no father. Only Wanda.

“Wanda? You ok?” Clint was holding a bowl and spoon out to her and looking concerned.

Wanda jumped, and came back to the present. She smiled as convincingly as she could at Clint “Just tired.” she lied. She put the coffee on the table, and took the bowl and spoon and placed them next to it, and picked out a cereal when Clint showed her where they were. She had not much liked cereal at the compound, finding it too sweet and too cold, but it is easy, and she does not want to ask if she can cook. She does not want to be a bother. They have already been kinder than Wanda deserved.

Clint sat across the table from her as she ate, bouncing Nathaniel automatically and yawning occasionally. She stands when she is finished and takes her bowl to the sink, but Clint takes it from her before she can wash it up. “You need to rest. Labour takes a lot out of you.” he scolded, and shooed her back to sitting down. Wanda tries to protest, but Clint hands her Nathaniel, and shock silences her. Clint has not even taken Davina in return. His trust is foolish; given to a woman who less than two months ago ripped his team mates minds apart and tried to do the same to him. She isn’t going to hurt Nathaniel obviously, he is only a baby and she means no harm anyway, but it is still foolish. Wanda knows she will not hurt him, but Clint cannot know that. She has been ruled by anger and vengeance before.

“I’m going into town this afternoon to pick some stuff up from Tony. Which is probably more stuff than his message suggests, you know Tony, but there might be some space in the car anyway, is there anything you want from town? Best you don’t go yourself until we work out a good disguise for you, but I can pick something up for you.”

Wanda thought about it, thinking over how much money she had. She’d put the cash she had into her pockets before leaving the Compound, but she didn’t know how much things cost or how far the money would go. “Can you get a babygro for Davina? And some diapers? I have money.”

“We have enough diapers to last a couple of weeks, even with two babies, and you might want to hold off on getting babygros, Tony’s probably sent more than she’ll need anyway, you know what he’s like.”

Wanda did not actually know what Stark was like “He’s sending clothes for Davina?” she asked, confused.

Clint blinked at her for a moment “Among other things yeah. He does that.”

“But he does not know me. He is not related to Davina.”

Clint shrugged “That doesn’t matter to Tony. You’re part of the team, and we look after our own. And Tony rarely does anything without going over the top.”

Something twisted in Wanda’s chest “He feels guilty.” she stated, trying to stop the tightness in her throat from being audible. She is as much to blame for Ultron as Stark, and far more to blame for the danger she placed Davina in.

Clint looked at her, and then sat down in the chair opposite her, looking more serious than Wanda had seen him since arriving. “He probably does, but that isn’t why he’s doing this. He’s doing this because he wants to help.”

Wanda looked away. She wanted to say that she didn’t need or want his help, but she knows neither is true. She has too little to be able to afford to turn away kindness, and she has received too little kindness in recent years to not be touched. But Stark is not to blame for the danger Davina was in during the battle. She is. “I do not deserve his help. Or yours.” she whispered.

“Yes you do.” Clint said, his voice more serious than she’d ever heard him. “A lot of things led to Ultron being created, and we’ve all made mistakes, bad ones. That doesn’t mean we don’t deserve support.”

“Helping create Ultron is not why I do not deserve support.” Wanda said, tears welling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, tried to focus on the healthy weight of her daughter in her arms and remember Davina had survived her recklessness, but guilt is an unbearable weight on her shoulders.

Clint didn’t say anything for a while, and then he asked “Did you know you were pregnant? Before coming with us to fight Ultron?”

Wanda made a choked sound in her throat, and her tears spilled over. She nodded jerkily, wishing she had a hand free to wipe the tears away, but her arms are both occupied by infants. Davina stirs and then wails, and Clint gets up and takes Nathaniel from her so she can soothe her better. She rocks her daughter, trying to hum a lullaby through the tears that won’t stop. She flinches when Clint first touches her back, but he just rubs his free hand in circles over her back. It is the first time in years someone other than Pietro has comforted her, but even so, Davina falls asleep again long before her tears stop. Wanda thinks the choices she made in the minutes and days after Strucker unleashed them on the Avengers will haunt her until the day she dies.

She is not sure what is harder to bear, that her daughter almost died because Wanda chose to fight, or that she does not regret it. Pietro was alive because she’d gone with him. She cannot regret that.

Clint does not tell her she made the right choice, but nor does he say she made the wrong one. Instead he says “I’m sorry you had to make that choice.”

Wanda shrugged and said nothing. She cannot tell if he approves or disapproves of what she chose. It does not matter. It is not his reaction she is afraid of. It is Pietro’s. Her twin will not easily forgive her for what she chose, or for ignoring the first opportunity to tell him she was carrying a child.

But they are twins. Pietro will watch her back, and she watches his. He will love Davina, because she is her daughter. He will be alive, and healthy, because of her choice. No matter how deep his anger, he will protect them. It would be enough. No matter how angry he would be, they would have each other. It would be enough. He would wake. He would.

He had to.

\---------------

Laura came downstairs shortly before lunch, looking marginally less tired than she had yesterday, and took Nathaniel with her back to the kitchen to nurse him. It was the second time Nathaniel had fed that morning. The first time Clint heated a bottle from the fridge for him, and explained the concept of pumping to Wanda. Apparently breast milk could be stored, so Laura did not have to take every feed. Clint said Wanda was welcome to share in the same system, but he did not linger on the offer. They both knew Wanda would not allow anyone to hold Davina while she slept.

Wanda wasn’t sure she would have taken the offer even if she agreed. As tired as she was, she liked feeding her daughter. Holding her small body close was a gift, and she loved every moment with her daughter. A year ago she would not have imagined loving anyone as much as she loved Pietro, but now she could not imagine not loving Davina so.

She went back upstairs to nurse herself, knowing before Davina could start crying when she was hungry. Her daughter’s sleepy mind leaned into her touch, curling instinctively around Wanda’s mind like her tiny fingers wrapped around Wanda’s finger. She burped her, and then changed her, and rocked her gently to coax her back to sleep. Laura knocked on her door to tell her they were having lunch, and she went back downstairs. Nathaniel was gone, likely tucked into his cot upstairs, but Wanda refused the offer to hold Davina for a while so she could eat more easily. Laura did not look upset, just told her the offer remained open. Wanda smiled, but didn’t answer.

Clint left after lunch, telling Cooper and Lila to behave and let Laura rest, and promising he’d be back soon. Lila asked if she could hold Davina again, and Wanda hesitated. She looked out the window at the disappearing truck, and back to Lila’s eager face, and nodded. Lila is delighted, and she sits obediently down and holds her arms in position. Wanda transfers Davina carefully into Lila’s waiting arms, and watches sharply, but Lila’s hold is secure. Davina stirs a little in her sleep, and Wanda feels her mind drift closer to waking as she senses Wanda’s distance, but she does not properly wake. Lila sits happily with her for five minutes before passing her back and declaring Davina was as cute as Nathaniel, and asking if Wanda would like to watch ‘Frozen’.

Wanda had no idea what Frozen was, but agreed. Lila’s enthusiasm was contagious, and it felt good to make her happy. It had been a long time since Wanda had been as carefree and happy as Lila, and instinctively, she wanted to preserve that for the six year old as long as possible. She would discover the pain of the world soon enough.

She went back upstairs to fetch the bouncer, her arms exhausted from holding Davina most of the morning, and set her daughter in it, bouncing it with her power, much to Lila’s glee. Wanda sent a tendril of power to make Lila’s hair flair outwards, and the six year old actually shrieked with delight, bringing both Cooper and Laura down to investigate. Wanda cringed guiltily, remembering Clint had asked they leave Laura alone to rest, but Laura didn’t seem to mind. She laughed when she found out the cause of the shrieking, and even Cooper looked a little impressed. It was strange, Wanda hadn’t really thought of her power as something fun before. She knew it made her valuable, and powerful to an extent, but Lila and Cooper’s delight made her see it with knew eyes, as something beautiful.

Cooper wanted to know if she could juggle with her mind, and was gleeful to discover she could, but slightly disappointed to be told by his mother that he couldn’t film it and put it on YouTube. Wanda wasn’t sure what YouTube was, but suspected she’d agree with the decision if she did. Davina woke shortly after they finally started watching Frozen, not hungry, or unhappy, just awake. Wanda moved to pick her up, sensing Davina’s desire, but Laura caught her eye. “May I?” she asked.

Wanda bit her lip, thinking about it. Laura was more of a threat than Lila, but she was still not military trained like Clint, and she was not dangerous the way Wanda was. More importantly, she was kind and gentle, and Wanda was as sure as she could be without Pietro’s eyes that Laura would not hurt Davina. She nodded, and Laura smiled warmly, and lifted Davina out of the bouncer, cooing at her and giving her a finger to hold. Davina’s face screwed up, fully awake and aware that Laura was not Wanda and did not have Wanda’s link to her. Laura swayed, humming an American lullaby Wanda didn’t know. Davina gave an experimental wail, but Wanda reached out with her mind, reassuring her daughter, and Davina settled down. They passed Davina back and forth between them every ten minutes through the first half of Frozen, and then Nathaniel wailed from upstairs and Laura left to get him. She returned half an hour later and put him on his back on a colourful blanket, with hanging things above him to bat at. He seemed to like it, but Davina had just gone back to sleep, so Wanda had no intention of trying Davina at it any time soon.

Clint returned just as the film was finishing, with an impressively large number of boxes piled into the truck. Wanda passed Davina to Laura, brushing her mind soothingly against her daughter’s sleeping one, and went to help. Clint visibly jumped as red light took the boxes out of his arms, and then scolded her for not resting.

Wanda rolled her eyes “This is not tiring. And I have been resting all day. ”

Clint huffed, but let her help with the boxes. They made a pile of them in the middle of the living room, Lila and Cooper already eyeing them with interest. Laura gave an amused sigh at the sight of them. “I thought Tony said he was only sending a few things.”

Clint snickered “I believe he considers this a few things.”

“He’s an genius engineer, shouldn’t he be able to count?”

Clint’s grin widened “I will be sure to ask him that next time I see him.”

Lila and Cooper burst into giggles and Wanda bit her lip to hide her own amusement, and examined the boxes, wondering which contained things for Davina.

It turned out they all contained things for Davina. Wanda had mixed feelings about it. She had thought Stark was sending things for the Bartons, and including a few for Davina, but she was wrong. The kindness was touching, and humbling, and it was a relief to not worry how she would buy the things her daughter needed, but she did not know how to feel about Stark’s kindness. It was hard enough to reconcile the man she and Pietro had hated for so long with the man she’d actually met. Further reconciling her tangled feelings towards Stark with his unthinking gifts only creates more confusion.

But she can do nothing about it now, and she is too overwhelmed to be able to deal with those emotions any time soon, so she tries to focus on other things. Stark has sent most things Wanda has noticed the Bartons have and guessed that she will need, and several she has not. There is a cot, but there is also another baby bouncer, both new and sleek. There are babygros that look like they will fit Davina, but there are also dozens more in bigger sizes, and a thick fluffy one like a full body coat. There are diapers, and things to make up a changing kit, but there is also a baby carrier that straps to either her front or back, a playmat and a structure with soft hanging things, what Laura tells her is called a pacifier, a pump and bottles like the ones Clint had shown her earlier, several incredibly soft blankets (she’d thought the blanket Sam had found to wrap Davina in after birth had been soft, and it had, but this was somehow softer), baby soap and shampoo, and a ridiculous collection of toys. There are also several books that Wanda thinks are about infants from the pictures on the covers, and a variety of what Laura tells her are fancy mother care products. Apparently Tony sent her a collection after Nathaniel was born as well.

Lila and Cooper are enthusiastic helpers of the unboxing, bringing their finds to show Wanda, and Clint is a more pragmatic sorter (apparently a collection of the things she will not need for months, and some she will need only if Davina gets sick), and Laura watches with growing amusement, and then concern. Wanda dodges Laura’s knowing eyes, trying to hide how completely overwhelmed she is, but mostly failed. She has never, in her entire life, owned even half as much stuff. She and Pietro together have never at any point owned half as much stuff. Their entire family, before the bombs, could have sold everything they owned and not been able to afford even a fraction of this. And yet the man whose name was painted on the bomb that took their parents from them gave it to her as if it was nothing. Perhaps to him it is. Perhaps Stark is so rich he will not even notice the cost, but to Wanda it is completely overwhelming.

Davina, perhaps sensing her emotions, whimpers in her sleep and then wakes with a wail, and Laura decides to intervene. “She probably needs feeding, why don’t you take her upstairs?”

Davina did not need feeding, only comfort, but Wanda seizes the opportunity, picks Davina out of the bouncer, and heads upstairs. It takes over two hours to feel ready to come back down, by which point Davina has become hungry, been fed, burped, changed, allowed to play with Wanda’s flickers of red-light for a while, and gone back to sleep. She goes back downstairs slowly, hoping she isn’t about to be overwhelmed again and missing Pietro like the piece of her soul he is. This would be so much easier with her twin at her side.

There is a lot less stuff in the living room when she returns, and she breathes an almost audible sigh of relief. Laura smiles warmly at her, and she suspects the woman sees more than Wanda knows. “We put the diapers and things with our supplies, and the stuff you won’t need for months into storage.” Laura explained, “They’re trying to build the cot.”

Clint looked up indignantly “What do you mean trying?”

Laura pretended she hadn’t heard him “Clint didn’t think he needed the instructions, so they’ve been at it for most of an hour. They’re having fun though.”

Wanda swallowed her giggles only with serious difficultly, and let herself be pulled down onto the sofa. She sent a swift look at Clint to measure his distance away and focus on his task, then let Laura help her settle Davina in the new bouncer. Half an hour later Clint throws his hands up and admits defeat, and Wanda resists laughing as the instructions are located. The cot is built less than half an hour after that, and then Clint groans aloud. “We should have built it upstairs shouldn’t we?”

Wanda did laugh at that “You remember I can move things with my mind right?” she reminded him.

Clint blinked “Huh, good point.”

Wanda smiled at stood, letting red flicker to life in her palms and surround the cot. She narrows her eyes in concentration and lifts it evenly, and carries it over to the stairs and up. It is not until she is on the landing upstairs that she realises she has left Davina with Clint and is not afraid. The realisation sends a flood of doubt through her, and she speeds up significantly, shoving the cot into the guest-room she slept in and running quickly back downstairs. But Clint is still packing away tools when she arrives, and Davina is still sleeping, unharmed, in the bouncer. Perhaps her initial, subconscious, thought had been correct. Perhaps she is safe here. Perhaps _Davina_ is safe here.

She wished she felt more certain about it. She wished she could relax into a certainty that they would be safe, but she cannot. She has learned too well over the last seven years that she can truly trust nobody but Pietro, and Strucker and his men taught her thoroughly the cost of things that looked too good to be true. She is half blind without Pietro’s eyes, and hobbled without his second set of limbs protecting both Wanda and Davina. And more than either of those, she is heart sick with missing him. Nothing is the same without Pietro. Nothing. She is missing an integral part of her very soul, and she feels the absence like a constant, unending, un-soothable ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter than normal but I might get time to write over the weekend so will possibly post next week too.
> 
> Comments make me happy :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's kind of rough, I usually edit or at least properly proofread before I post, but don't have time to :-(
> 
> Comments make me happy :-)


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